A Reason for the Season
by Anoyo
Summary: An introspective Christmas time fic, from both Duo and Heero's perspective. 1x2x1 if you choose to see it, otherwise just charactercentric. Very short chapters.
1. Part One

A Reason for the Season

Part One

Disclaimer: Don't own Gundam Wing, don't pretend to. Thanks

Christmas. Duo had always hated Christmas. He hated the way he would notice loving parents choosing loving presents for their loved children whenever he went to the market. He hated the way he could see former orphans blushing and stammering as they got to pick out their presents. He hated the way Sister Helen would always sit with him and pray for the right parents for him in the upcoming year. He hated the way she always seemed to believe that those prayers would come true.

He continued to hate Christmas even after he left the church. Presents and loving parents were no longer the receivers of his loathing, but instead the way God had thrown all of Sister Helen's prayers back in her face. She had loved him, and prayed for him, and only succeeded in getting ripped away from him herself. 

Because of this, he began to treat Christmas as just any other day, if only to himself. He was the happy one, the bright and cheery one: of course he loved Christmas! But it didn't hold any true special meaning for him.

When he "forgot" to put in for a vacation over Christmas at work, or when he cheerfully told anyone who wished to invite him to their Christmas celebration that he already had plans, Duo had his loathing in mind.

As such, he was horrified to learn that Preventer was _closed_ over the winter holidays, simply so the staff could have some time alone with their families or friends.

Duo didn't want "holiday time" with his friends. He didn't want "holiday time" at all, for that matter.

And so he trudged home to his apartment in a bitter heart on December twenty-second, with nothing but the paperwork in his arms to distract him.


	2. Part Two

A Reason for the Season

Part Two

When the day-by-day calendar he had received for Thanksgiving proclaimed the day to be December twenty-fourth, Heero allowed a bit of a jump to wiggle its way into his step. He knew it was uncharacteristic, and possibly aneurysm inducing, but the Christmas season was his one true weakness.

He had always held Christmas on something of a pedestal: no matter what, nothing could ruin Christmas. Christmas Eve could suck all it wanted, so long as Christmas Day was reserved for peace, tranquility, and happiness. He could continue along that vein, becoming sappier as he went, but he figured there were only so many aneurysms a person could have before they turned into a puddle of red goo.

Being the anal-retentive person that he was, Heero had finished all of his Christmas shopping in November, with exactly the same rankings to everyone's gifts, categorized by want, need, and propriety. The gifts were are neatly stacked along his living room wall, shining in their happy silver, red, and green wrappings and standing hideously out of place in the sparsely-decorated space that was Heero's apartment.

But today was Christmas Eve. Today was the day he delivered all the presents, so that their owners could open them Christmas Morning -- or very late Christmas Eve, if their curiosity got the better of them, as he didn't really mind -- in all the glory that the event carried with it. His past deliveries had been hindered by a few large explosions, but not this year's! This year he would deliver the gifts, come Hell or high water (though, considering his location, high _snow_ would probably be more appropriate).

He delivered Relena's gifts with very little to-do, as she was out for the evening and a manservant was the only one around to place them under the tree. Wu Fei's were delivered to a slightly stunned hand, and Heero received a two-for-one as Sally appeared to be spending Christmas with the Chinese man as well. Trowa and Quatre ushered him in for a bit of hot cocoa, which he accepted politely. Une had made it clear she was spending Christmas with the only people of any importance to her whatsoever: Mariemeia, Zechs, and Noin. While carrying the bulky presents up four flights of stairs had been a big of a drag, Heero was glad to get so many delivered at once. You could never say too much for multi-tasking! (And the look on Zechs' face, accompanied by sniggering on Noin's, didn't hurt matters much, either.)

It wasn't until he reached Duo's apartment that he hit a snag. When Duo opened the door to see Heero holding his little shopping bag of gifts, he promptly shut it again, giving no explanation whatsoever. When continuing to knock didn't seem to be rendering any positive response, Heero took the hint. So Duo didn't like gifts. That was fine.

But he was really going to have to learn to.


	3. Part Three

A Reason for the Season

Part Three (Final)

Duo slumped into his armchair, scowling at the door. Who did Heero think he was, anyway? Showing up with gifts. Well, fuck him, too. Picking up the remote, Duo pressed the "on" button with a bit too much force, succeeding only in turning the television on and off again in very quick succession. Irritated with the TV in particular and the situation in general, Duo dropped the remote on the ground -- a bit forcefully -- and picked up the book he'd been reading.

He was distracted from that, as well, as a small "thud" echoed from his bedroom. Having a pretty good idea what he was about to see, he dog-eared his page, rather than a clunky bookmark, and held his book at the ready. He chucked it with all his might as his dark-haired friend emerged, aim flawless.

The somewhat muffled curse and resounding _THUD_ were almost enough to make him drop the agitation. Almost.

"Why the Hell are you sneaking into my apartment?" he growled, crossing his arms with more force than was logically necessary. "Can't you catch a _hint_?"

Heero rubbed his forehead with a slight wince, ass on the ground for a reason that was not entirely his own. "Obviously not. Ouch. If I'd known you had PMS, I would've stayed the fuck away." He scowled at the American briefly before pulling himself to his feet. "What've you got against gifts, anyway?" he asked, walking, with his plastic bag, to sit on the couch kitty-corner from Duo's recliner.

Duo met scowl-for-scowl as he replied, "I've got nothin' against _gifts_, it's just Christmas I've got issues with." His scowl depened -- and, outside from his knowledge, his eyes crossed very slightly -- as he realized he'd said a bit more than he'd wanted to. Not his fault. Heero had trespassed. He had every right to be pissed. . . . yeah.

The trespasser blinked, something bordering on blank confusion washing across his face. "Huh? Why do you have something against Christmas?"

As he had learned from the past three years of almost-friendship, Duo was painfully unable to remain upset with his friend. Consciously, he figured it was probably because of the social retardation Heero so obviously suffered from. Deep in the depths of a place Duo liked to pretend didn't exist, he knew it was because they were _friends_, and friends just didn't get mad at each other for stupid things. Or, truly, anything of weight less than all of Western Europe. "Bad memories. So can ya leave, now?" He relaxed his upper body, not really wanting the tight muscles clenching would leave him with, and sunk back into the chair.

Heero's confused look flickered for a second, being replaced by something bordering more on understanding. "All right. Well," he said, looking at the gifts next to him, "how about this?" He stood, bringing the gifts with him, and plopped the bag down on Duo's lap. "Congratulations on a year without war."


End file.
